Don't Rappeler Me
by buttersandtweek
Summary: Christophe loved Kyle, Ike doesn't care to let him forget that.
1. Viril Amour

_Rappeler - **Remind  
><strong>Viril Amour - **Manly Love  
><strong>__belles personnes -** beautiful people  
><strong>__Comprendre -** Understand  
><strong>__Oui -** Yes**_

_**Christophe's ringtone**, "Je suis un Homme" by Zazie.  
><em>_coulé en or et le béton - **sunk in gold and concrete  
><strong>__corps dans une cage et le cœur en prison - **body in a cage and heart in jail**_

_doit -** must**_

* * *

><p>The music played in sync with the young males body. His slender hips swaying and gravitating towards a random companion in the dark room. His pale Canadian face focusing on the notes. His coal like cowlick shining every now and then. The beats blare and the led lights flash blue, red, green and everything in between. The man behind the bar, once working for a Peruvian club ponders on the similarity of the scene, now bar-tending in the same building. Except now it's replace with different cultures, genders, races and mainly and most importantly, being a gay-barclub renamed _Viril Amour_, homosexuals. The blond wiped down a jug eyeing his best friend's younger brother across the room, debating breaking up the contact between him and the redneck three times his size. After after Kyle specifically said, _make sure he doesn't get raped or so help me Moses I will hold you responsible_. God knows you don't want to get on the red head's bad side. Not after the face arrangement he gave Cartman freshmen year in college.

However it's proving to be a hard job, the Canadian hasn't been here for more than an hour and already four males, excluding Ms. Garrison, has hit on the genius. Luckily, the nineteen year old, being the so very cocky gentlemen he is, rejected them all. Unfortunately for them Ike wasn't one for common manners, and Kenny personally had to escort two of the steaming rejected men before they punched the smartass square in the face. Kenny sighed a breathe of relief he hadn't realized he was holding when the techno song stopped in favor for another. Ike departed the slight put off dance partner, patting the buffer's shoulder as if he were simply some upset invalid toddler. Correction, five rejected males. He slowly and confidentially strolled his way towards the blond pervert. Not far behind him so said was the painfully obviously drunk, screaming something Kenny couldn't quite make out yet.

"-upid prick I'll tears ya ass up!"

Ike walked up to the bar and placed a hand on the counter using the other to point at the fuming man, in a disgustedly filthy plaid jacket, behind him.

"This illiterate moron here has informed me that my ass needs 'tearings'. Since you have proven to be a expert in the fields of human mingling and mating, please do explain to me what he is inferring."

Kenny scoffed as the drunk man sputters insults to the younger's back. Kenny nods to the bodyguard by the entryway, signaling the classic trouble is a brewing sign. The bodyguard makes a move to step in when the owner walks by and stopped him in his tracks. The blond rolls his eyes and turns to the drunk, throwing the dish rug he had been using to wipe down mugs on the recently shined glass counter.

"Look here, I suggest you calmly walk away or I'll have to make you leave dude."

The tallest eyed the blond down before slamming his fist on the bar's counter causing people's drinks to experience a extra mini earthquake. Several people got up, having be annoyed by the conflict.

"Don't tell me whats to do prwetty boyy!"

Kenny climbed over the counter in hopes to console the situation. Ike followed Kenny's suit, rolling his eyes. The young male turned around and placed both of his hands on the angry drunk's chest, inwardly frowning at how delightful the feel of the rough unwashed cloth is towards his smooth hand.

"I told you, it was just a dance. I didn't make any indication that I want to marry you and have your ill bred children. Kindly fuck off."

The drunk grabbed Ike's wrist and leaned in towards his face breathing his unpleasant scent on him. Suddenly he screamed as the the arm that was gripping Ike, was settling behind his own back. Behind him the brunette owner slightly twisted the guys arm murmuring something in French to himself.

"We don't assault belles personnes in here good sir. Comprendre?"

The french hastily shoved the guy away from himself, who in turn made a beeline to the exit shouting nonsense to the air matter. Kenny patted the owner's back, disrupting his untucked dark brown dress shirt. Kenny smirked well the French mumbled something about uselessness.

"Dude I was totally about to whoop some ass but then Ike over there got shitty at the poor guy, _again_."

Ike shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly watching Christophe nudge Kenny off with a distasteful face gesture. The brunette acknowledge the Jewish Canadian with a head-nod, giving him a questioning look.

"What? I can't help it if all your customers are fond of me. Bitches love me."

Kenny squealed enjoyment, proud of his basically little brother's comment. The blonde brought a arm around his shoulder ruffling his cowlick in the process.

"Kid is hot dude, if Kyle wasn't such a sexy overprotective tight-ass himself I'd totally jump his bones."

Christophe scrunched his face up at the mention of his ex. In college, freshmen and sophomore year they were, as much as the french will deny it today and to death, heavily in love with each other. At least he thought so, but finding the red head in his dorm-room against the wall naked and being rammed by his best friend, Stan fucking Marsh, tells him otherwise. For several months Christophe moped around in jogging pants with a stained white t-shirt considering murder, leaving all his missions up to Gregory to fulfill. He quickly recovered from his self pity after the fancy blond got shot in the abdomen. Needless to say, having the red head's younger brother here at his club every other night for the past month and a half, brings up memories he'd rather suppress. He can't help me think that's his goal. The kid does thrives being a pain in the ass. What the hell though, Christophe is no ray of sunshine himself.

"Oui, well stop pissin off ma customers."

Ike stops himself from smiling and repressed the seemingly need to giggle at the french's inflamed with anger face. He brought up a thumb, licked it and wiped off a smudge of dirt on the brunette's cheek.

"As soon as you figure out the wonders of a shower."

_coulé en or et le béton_  
><em>corps dans une cage et le cœur en prison<em>

Both Kenny and Ike watch in amusement as Christophe flips open his cellphone, cutting off his ringtone to read a message sent from his partner in crime, Gregory.

_Meet me in 30 minutes, we have a mission._

_-Gregory_

Christophe looks up and locks gaze with Kenny's bright sea blue eyes with his own mossy green-brown eyes. He puts his cell back into his back pocket without breaking their line of focal point and mutters, "Lock up tonight, I doit be off."

In unison both Kenny and Ike mockingly salute him while impersonating him, "Oui, sir".


	2. Un Fou

_S'il vous pla t tre putain_ - _**Please fucking be  
><strong>Ingrat -** Ungrateful ****  
><strong>Pas -** No  
><strong>bien - **okay  
><strong>Oui -** Yes  
><strong>a fool_ -** _un fou  
><em>**_Go down -_**_ Descendre _**

* * *

><p>The tall dyed redhead skinny tanned woman gasped her treachery as her hired butler brand her neck. Her silk green top lays abandon on the marble bedroom floor. The pale man with shaggy ear length black hair working to unzip the side of her orange knee length skirt. The french, muttering obscenities, press the record button on his camera from his boss's bedroom closet. The fancy blond, crouched next to him, held his mouth to hold in his laughter from the irony of the situation. Mr. Forlern, a high paid lawyer with a mafia boss as his brother, paid the two young males to catch his bimbo's wife infidelity. When he requested them to follow her he had the most pitiful expression on his face that just screamed, prove me wrong. Christophe always said his name should be Mr. Forlorn. Gregory always said Christophe was his long lost son. The dirty brunette jabbed the blond in the ribs with his elbow.<p>

"S'il vous pla t tre putain quiet."

The blond calmed down a bit and stretched his arms yearning to do the same with his legs, if only it weren't for the closet doors right in front of him. He looked at his friend since elementary and business partner since middle school. Over the past few years the jobs they've taken had been somewhat, domestic. When the blond got hurt on the job, Christophe insisted they had a backup plan as far as financial income, hence the club. Just in case they want out the business he had said, in case. Gregory suspects that was his way of saying, I'm too depress to do this shit. He also suspects the reason he keeps turning down the breaking and entering or robbing the banks kind of jobs is because he doesn't want the blond to get hurt again. Also, it seems he has made this into a festering technique, with all the recent infidelity cases they've been fulfilling. Ah, how the blond remember the days when Christophe could actually laugh at a joke or hell even curse god and his hateful ways. No longer though, now he just aimlessly follow through the day. Emotions are nonexistent on his face or in his words, but you can see the anger in his eyes. The hurt in shades of grey and black under his eyes. The fake redhead screams a name that'll means nothing to the hidden males and everything to their boss, jolting the blond out of his thoughts. Christophe turns off his camera and mumbles,

"Ingrat slut."

The satisfied butler pulls on his slacks throwing the woman her silky top from across the opposite side of the massive round bed with a disgruntled blue and gold blanket. Gregory watch as the blissfully unaware double make their way out of the bedroom before turning his attention back to his partner titling his head a bit.

"Interested in anyone lately?"

The french ungracefully stood up holding out his hands offering to help his friend up. The blond thankfully accepted jumping up almost at head level with so said brunette.

"Pas."

Gregory opened the closet doors and walked out to the disturbed bed only to collapse on it. He inwardly cursed the pain now cruising through his back as Christophe sat at the edge of the bed eyeing him.

"You bien Gregory?"

Gregory smiled into the golden sheets with a idea forming in his head. May not be the best solution considering they're friends but hey Christophe is attractive and Gregory is not immune to this.

"My back is killing me, I think a massage is in order since I said this job wasn't worth the pay anyway."

Christophe rolled his eyes but nevertheless crawled on the bed, placing his knees on each side of Gregory lower waist. Using the heel of his hands he rubbed the blonds shoulder blades, slowly working his way down. The blond silently moaned as a couple minutes go by.

"It'll feel better if I'm shirtless."

The french lifted his own body some to pull off his friend's shirt, placing it carefully next to them as so not to lose it. Who would of thought, Christophe carefully? He then went back straight to work humming something to himself. The blond listened careful to piece together what he was humming.

"Is that your ringtone?"

"Oui."

The blond chuckled and rolled over under the french, catching him off guard. The blond reached out to grab a lock of the dirty brunette's in between his index and middle finger, twirling it.

"We could make you interested again."

The french look at him, seemingly reading his soul. The blond wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, he has been able to call people out on all kinds of things lately. The brunette sighed and shakes his head disappointingly, before stepping off Gregory and the bed. The french hastily scratched at his five o' clock shadow, using his other hand to pull up Gregory much to the blond's despise.

"Your're being un fou."

Gregory smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulder.

"I just want you back to yourself."

The french looked at the blond and waved his hand dismissively, deeming the matter over with. He pointed to the window. They both walk to the window, Christophe reaching out to grab a branch on the giant tree leaping to its comfort. As he reached out to grab Gregory wrist a annoying high pitch scream made the brunette pull Gregory a little quicker to his chest than he intended. Gregory swiftly let go in favor of another branch to let Christophe pull out a gun from the back of his waist pants. Through the window he pointed it to the curly fake redhead staring straight into her green almond eyes. Kyle has green eyes. Unknowingly dropping his gun, the blond quickly caught it pointing it to the woman.

"Go down stairs, don't call the police and everything will be okay. Understood?"

The woman numbly nodded her head before running down stairs. The blond subtly laughed and pocketed the gun. Noticing the french again he sighed loudly before mocking the brunette.

"Stop being un fou."

The brunette glared at his partner, but instead of coming back with a snarky remark he resigned. Really it just isn't worth it and the french wanted nothing more but to rest and wake up early to restock his bar.

"Descendre."


	3. La Way of Manwhores

**bâtard** - _bastard_  
><strong>tu veux dire<strong> - _you mean  
><em>**la** -_ the _

* * *

><p>Christophe walked down the street with the sun just starting to come up in the redneck town. He twiddled a cigarette in between his fingers listening to the snow crunch under his combat boots. A gust of wind blew strong enough to blow out his cancer stick. He looked up at the sky and flicked it off. Turning around a corner he saw his building in plain view in took notice that the blond was already waiting for him with the deliverer, one who has helped him with a couple missions in the pass. His stoic emotionless expression and dull voice always came in handy when in need of a interrogation. He quickened his pace a bit when Kenny waved at him to do so. Coming up to them Craig threw a clipboard at him with a semi glare.<p>

"About time."

Christophe signed the order papers with a sigh.

"I got ied up bâtard."

Kenny chuckled as the french handed the clipboard back and motioned to the door when he got his attention.

"We would have started without you if you just give me a copy of the keys."

Christophe fished out the ring of keys from his back pocket and grabbed the right one opening the backdoor. Craig muttered something to low for the average human ears and went to the back of his truck to grab some boxes of alcohol with Kenny in tow. Christophe walked in and turned the light on in the back of the building and looked around. The walls were a clean white, a much different look from the front part where the walls are splattered different colors and the overhead lights so dark hid that fact till the led lights flash them. In here the light shines so brightly you can easily detect a spot of dirt anywhere on the shiny black tiles. A small cooking area smelled of cleaning products so strong the health compartment would argue it's too clean. From behind he heard a thud and turned to see a taken about Kenny and a fuming Craig. In front of the pair a box lay with broken glass twinkling its way out. Kenny bent down to start cleaning at the mess as Craig resumed with his own box setting it down on a shelf turning back to the blond.

"What the hell McCormick, are you really that weak or are you just high off your ass?"

Kenny looked around with his sorry obviously not dilated pupils and settled on Christophe.

"Sorry dudes I'm just so tired, who would of thought I'd be the one kept up by the roommate's company. For some reason the french cringed. Kenny's roommate is Ike, it used to be Kyle but he moved in with Stan. Ike finished college earlier then his peers in Denver and came back to take the redhead's room. Though Kenny has made a big upgrade from his childhood and can certainly provide on his own with the income he's making at the club and the occasional deals on the side, the young man craves companionship and just can't stand being alone for too long. Ike was more than willing to move in, avoiding moving back in with his parents and having to hid his bongs. This way now he gets free pot.

"I don't care who Ike is buttfucking McCormick. It would be nice for once if I didn't have to do all the unloading with all your girly gossip."

Christophe walked over to help Kenny with the mess as the blond pouted and stuck out his tongue at the Tucker.

"One he wasn't buttfucking, I'd totally appreciate that as a reason for my lack of sleep than his depressing friend ranting on and on about his girlfriend. Like we get it she's a conformist and you have a hard on."

The french laughed a bit and Kenny smiled a goofy mouth full of pearly whites. The bored male rolled his eyes and went to grab more boxes. Christophe picked up another shard of glass as Kenny cleared his throat.

"Can't stay the same after tonight I guess."

The dirty french looked up and wondered out loud.

"What tu veux dire?"

"Ah his boyfriend from Denver is coming down. Dude he is quite the looker despite his total douchery. I bet they're gonna go at it all night long, I might just record it."

Kenny laughed at his own joke in a way that suggest he is seriously considering the idea as Christophe tried to justified the anger boiling in his gut. Why does he care he has a boyfriend? He's been leading on all these guys lately and he's taken, maybe? No maybe because in way he has turned into a friend. Friends don't let friends date douche bags Christophe settled on.

"Why he is douche?"

Kenny stop his laughter and gave Christophe a look reading why do you care. He shrugged his shoulders as Craig placed another box down taking this as a chance to put in his input.

"Maybe because Filmore is a retarded manwhore and Ike is a uptight virgin. I bet you 50 that instead of fucking, Filmore is going to scream about the lack of and Ike is going to give him a lecture on his anger and some bullshit like that."

Kenny dejectedly sighs and points at Craig.

"Dude you don't think Kyle knows about that do you?"

"He knows the la way of manwhores."

The pair look to the french as it hit him he said that out loud. Kenny looking astound said,

"Dude."

Christophe shrugged his shoulders and stood back up handing Craig the bag of broken glass.

"He knows and is being lazy bâtard."

Craig actually chuckled and patted the french on the back as Kenny stood back up wiping his knees.

"Sounds like your're going to take care of it Frenchie."


	4. Maybe

"Checkmate."

Ike smiled smugly picking up his couple years older boyfriends chess piece. Filmore crossed his arms as his readjust his posture on the living area couch's to watch his aunt, Rosie O' Donnell, own show. Ike rolled his eyes and lean over towards the table to clean up the set. With the objective to get his boyfriends attention his swayed his hips, subtly, as if he had no idea what he was doing. Filmore seeing a opportunity he couldn't miss reached out, grabbing his waist, to pull the Canadian on his lap. The younger of two with his back to the sore loser fought a bit before giving up and snuggling deeper into his chest. Filmore nuzzle his hair with his nose and whispered,

"You must of cheated, what do you think your punishment should be?"

Ike played with the sleeve of Filmore red jacket, mockingly in deep thought as his boyfriend plants light kisses down the side of his neck.

"No dinner?"

Fimore chuckled in his neck nodding his head no.

"I was thinking something along the line of the opposite if you catch my drift."

Ike laughed as Filmore proceeded to turn him around on his lap. The younger's white sweater with blue and green printed leaves slightly lifting up, revealing sections of pale stomach skin. The oldest bought a hand to his skin noting the smoothness of it, enjoying the contact. While as the youngest noted and disliked the smoothness of Filmore hand crawling up his stomach. He lightly pushed on his boyfriend trying to get up put Filmore ever the stubborn tugged his shirt down with his other hand while pouting,

"Ike come on, stop being a tease."

Ike struggled to get up, succeeding when the apartment's door flew open catching the older of the two off guard. A blond walked in smirking with a annoyed Tucker at his side and a dirty french in tow. The blond clasped his together searching the flustered faces of the couple.

"Well well well what do we have here? Didn't interrupt nothing did I?"

Kenny walked over to a kitchen cabinet opening it while awaiting his answer. The other two of the threesome walked into the conjoin kitchen sitting in the high table counter chairs. Ike attempted to straighten out his shirt as Filmore sent him a knowing glare.

"Thought you said he was working today."

Ike managed to put on a innocent facade as Kenny pulled out bandages from the cabinet declaring,

"Found it! And for your info restocking doesn't take all day dude."

Craig took off his brown coat revealing his faded short sleeved collared button up shirt with his name tag embedded on the front pocket. He settled it on the back of his chair turning his attention to Filmore. Kenny being the most unashamed of the bunch unzipped his jeans and kicked them on the floor. Ike, Craig and Christophe not batting a eye, Filmore on the other hand blushing and asking,

"Why are you guys here anyway?"

Ike sat back on the couch on the oppposite side of his boyfriend. Filmore reaches out and pulls him closer as the french analyses the slump in his shoulders and plastered on smile. He took notice the tinkle in his sea green eyes dying down. Dammit, green. The French eyed the Jew Canadian as Kenny taped up his knees. Craig spoke up seemingly annoyed at the question.

"I don''t know, could do something with Kenny hurting his knees fucktard."

Kenny beemed with his charming smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"Dropped some wine, and Craig got some weed. Thought Christophe could loosen up so I dragged him with me."

Ike scoffed and looked at Craig.

"How would your boss feel if he knew you were getting high on the job?"

Craig pulled out a baggie with Hawaiian grass, unzipping it. He throws it at Christophe and says,

"I imagine _she'd_ be upset I didn't include her."

Finishing up his taping job, Kenny laughs and concludes,

"My kind of woman."

Filmore ruffled Ike's hair and whispered something unheard by the others in his ear. The plastered smile hid his emotion no more as the Canadian grimaced.

"I'd rather stay here and blaze with the guys."

Loudly this time, loud enough for everyone one else and their mothers,

"In other words you'd rather I go elsewhere!."

Filmore pushed his boyfriend off him huffing and grabbing his keys off the living table, knocking over chess pieces. Ike grabbed his arms and silently pleads with him to hold on.

"No, call me wrong but I don't remember saying that. I said I want to say, you can just just stay with me."

Filmore sighed loudly as the other three watch somewhat amuse at the unnecessary scene.

"Forget it, I'm just going to go. Maybe go over to Bradley's."

Ike lets go of his boyfriend knowing what he meant. Bradley is just another person he turns to when the Canadian doesn't put out. He isn't oblivious of this either. Mockingly he mumbles,

"Maybe he'll punish you?"

Filmore shakes his head, kiss his boyfriends head and walks to the door. With his hand on the doorknob he turns back around.

"Hopefully."


	5. Malheureusement

**Minou **- _Kitty  
><em>**putain de** -_ fucking  
><em>**un peu **_-_ _somewhat  
><em>**sale pute** - _dirty whore  
><em>**Ainsi vous **-_ well you  
><em>**Malheureusement**** - **_unfortunately_

* * *

><p>Smoke swirled in the young males circle forming caterpillars like creatures, windows close and tension nonexistent. No fans or air conditioning on making it impossible for the French, who isn't partaking in the activity, not to inhale the caterpillars. Kenny's shuffle, attach to the stereo, switching from OPMs <em>Heaven is a Halfpipe<em> to De La Souls _Me, Myself and I_. Ike, being more of a techno fan himself, grimaced at the music before passing the red, yellow, blue and green glass bong to Christophe on his right. Rolling his eyes he pass it to Craig who was on his right. All sitting crisscrossed on the carpet floor in Kenny's room, Craig bent over to pick up more weed, from the bowl in the center of them, to burn. Kenny, being on his left, smirking slaps the delivers butt which in turn Craig simply smirked back, or at least what is suppose to be a smirk on his part.

"If you think you are getting lucky tonight McCormick you are surely mistaken."

Ike chuckled while Kenny mockingly feigned a hurt face leaning to hug Craig's neck as the noirette took a hit holding in his breath.

"But Craigy poo who else will service me tonight if not you with your cute little dimples? Besides if I recall correctly you get horny yourself at times like these."

Craig choked sputtering smoke, demising the sudden attention and stares he was receiving from the group. Christophe chuckled and patted him on the back declaring,

"Minou cat got zhe tongues for once?"

Craig threw the bong in Kenny's lap and punched him in the shoulder sending him a much hated glare.

"What part of 'don't tell anyone about this McCormick' did you not get retard?"

Kenny smiled triumphantly, taking a hit and blowing smoke into the angry's face.

"Don't recall telling anyone about 'it'."

Ike laughed at Craig's caught facial expression and reached over the circle towards Kenny motioning for the smoking device. Forgetting his manners he declared,

"Not like I didn't already know Craig is a flaming homosexual. Fuck I remember about a couple years ago Kyle called me complaining about how he kept hitting at him at some frat party and grabbing his ass."

Ike took a hit before continuing not realizing the conflict in time about his story and Craig and Christophe intently watching each other one drearily waiting for the others reaction.

"Then apparently while he was in some random room making out with Stan, Craig come stumbling in with Token hugging his waist and kissing his neck and all that gooey dru-."

Kenny coughed loudly purposely interrupting the Jew Canadian as Christophe process what he just was heard. Craig watched as Ike finally caught on to what he had done, looking back and forth between the two. Christophe deciding on what was bothering him the most about the all affair spoke up.

"Did every putain de one knew before me?"

The French clenched his fist awaiting his answer, inwardly knowing no one would have the balls to say that yes in fact everyone knew his boyfriend was cheating on him, the supposedly excellent spy. Kenny growing up in a house full of fighting, grown to hate conflict. Therefore being himself he tried to avoid the matter and make the dirty man feel better by laughing awkwardly.

"What? That Craig is totally a fugepacker though he will die saying he's straight as the arrow up his tight hot ass?"

Craig didn't even send the dirty blond a look, watching as the French slowing hoisted himself off the ground. Ike grabbed a sleeve thinking he was going to hit Craig or maybe even Kenny. Christophe shakes him off and disappointingly nodded his head no.

"Craig I thought we was un peu friend, but you don't tell me when you see my sale pute boyfriend cheating?"

Craig, for once ashamed of himself, looked at the carpet beneath his feet as Kenny tried to stick up for him.

"Would you have really believed him, you acted like Kyle was a fucking God, your Messiah. Anyway telling you that would have given himself away, knowing you you'd investigate everyone including Token. Craig is insecure about his sexuality clearly and isn't ready to risk coming out dude. I'm sure he meant no harm, he was just lost."

He turned to so said person and asked,

"Right dude?"

The dealer shrugged his shoulders picking at the carpet whispering more to himself,

"I'm not a fucking faggot."

Christophe grabbed the bong from Ike's hand and threw it at the nearest wall before walking up to Craig and pulling him up by his collar shirt. Staring straight into his eyes and scowled.

"Ainsi vous caused harm. Lots."

Letting go of his shirt he turned to the Canadian and dejectedly, sadly, informed him,

"Malheureusement you too."

The three males stared at the retreating back and no one spoke a word till they heard the door slammed shut, rather loudly, shattering the walls and knocking off Kenny's framed picture of a model chick with a dick. The glass cracked sprinkling bits of shards over the image. Kenny sighed and looked at the noirette's stone emotionless face and then to Ike's. Ike was barely managing to hold back unnecessary tears from exploding like waterfalls. Kenny crawled over to him, thinking.

"Shit."


	6. Channels

After unsuccessfully trying to get his Canadian friend out of his funk for the past four days, Kenny pulls out his phone scrolling through his contacts. A bunch of names, blah, Karen, Kevin, ah click. Pulling his phone up to his ear he listens to the ringing before he a hoarse voice answers.

"Kyle's busy dude."

Kenny smirks leaning further into his couch eyeing the bedroom of the one and only Ike's. In the background he can catch a sound he knows all too well. Setting his foot on the coffee table as his friend pathetically tries to hold back a moan.

"Stanley boo did you answer Kyle's phone while he's blowing you? Tsk tsk tsk I'm surprise he'd let you do that young man."

Instead of a answer he was awarded with a grunted moan following the red head screaming profanities in the background before another voice spoke into his ear.

"Shit Kenny I didn't know he answered the phone, what's up dude?"

Kenny laughed, should of figured Kyle wasn't actually playing along with the pacifist. He could only imagined how red the Jew's face is by now, especially listening to him laugh. Slowly he calms himself down trying to remember his purpose for calling. Ah.

"Well your brother is being a pain, what can I do to make him come out tonight?"

Kyle cleared his throat loudly before inquiring,

"Well how is he being a pain?"

Kenny sighs loudly and checks the Canadian's door again resolving to whisper.

"He's been looking like he's two seconds away from crying for like the past couple days dude. Every time I ask him what's wrong he insists nothing. Yet when I make the moves on him or try to get him out of the apartment, absolutely nothing dude."

"Ugh one, stop hitting on my brother jackass. Two, have you tried, I don't know, reminding him he needs to look for a job?"

Kenny rolls his eyes, yeah because searching for a job makes everyone's day brighter. This is Kyle he is talking to however, the Jew probably thinks foreplay is reading a Shakespeare play out to each other. Though thinking about it, Kyle holding a book in nothing but a vest with Stan making gestures with his sword doesn't sound half bad. Shit off track Kenny.

"No, I don't think he gives a fuck. Besides he doesn't need to, I don't mind playing Daddy."

Kyle starts coughing madly, squeaking,

"Sick dude! That's my baby brother your're talking about, watch it."

Kenny for the hundredth time, rolls his eyes reaching next to him to grab the remote. Turning the TV on, he concludes,

"You do know Ike's a grown man? A fine one at that, with sexual urges himself I'm sure."

"Dude but-"

Kenny clicks through the channels cutting off his friend.

"Besides I would never really do anything with him k dude, even when he begs me, which he totally will because let's face it I'm not resistible."

Kyle laughs and hums knowingly.

"Yeah dude I know, but still I have to stick up for him. Knowing him he is listening into this conversation right now."

Kenny half heartily glances back at the door he was looking at not only a moment ago to spot, in fact the Jew Canadian, in a t-shirt with plaid blue and yellow boxers, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He shrugs at him before declaring,

"I have no regrets."

Kyle laughs again before hanging up without saying goodbye. Kenny doesn't mind though, that's just the kind of friendship they have. He toss his phone on the green couch, patting one of the plush cushion's.

"Hey sweetkins, come sit with Big Papa."

Ike glares slightly before chuckling, heading over to the couch to sit down next to him. Kenny takes notice the contemplating look on his younger's companion's face, eyebrows scrunched together, nose all wrinkled up and what have you.

"Whatca thinking about hotstuff?"

Ike shrugs one of his shoulder, making his shoulder blade look as if it's trying to escape his simple thin white oversize t-shirt.

"How about the club tonight?"

Kenny jumps up excitedly having been stuck in the place, for like ever, at least in his mind. Sticking a hand out to pull up Ike with him, Ike takes it and asks,

"Do you think Christophe will give me a job?"

With Ike next to him, Kenny pats him on the back directing him to his room to get changed.

"If he doesn't I will babe."

Ike turns back around towards Kenny to stick his tongue out.

"You better put that thing back in yo mouth or I'll be force to do it myself."

Ike scoffs but nevertheless places his tongue back into it's home safely, not wanting to test Kenny's words when it comes to sexual matters. Kenny laughs and shakes his head, watching Ike close the door then sitting back on the couch. Kenny picks up the remote again, flipping trough all the channels. Fucking commercials.


	7. Désespérément Honest

_**leur attente **_**- **_their wait  
><strong>maintenant<strong> _-_ now  
><strong>ennuyeux<strong> _-_ annoying  
><strong>s'il vous plaît<strong> _-_ Please**  
><strong>_

* * *

><p>The bouncer looked on at the drunk female hugging her massive fake breast suggestively trying to tempt him in letting her in. The bouncer nodded his head no swaying silks of brunette strands to the left and right. His hand resting on the curly blonds shoulder reassuringly.<p>

"Ma'm I'm sorry, I've been ordered specifically by Christophe not to let you back in."

The lady grabbed his wrist and threw it off her disgustedly, while in slurs hissing,

"Fuck you Clyde, you ain't even a man. Ho'd you even get this job?"

Another blond, a dirty one at that hugged the female from behind her. His friend in tow, rubbed at his cowlick nodding to Clyde sympathetically.

"Now now can't we settle this like adults?"

The blond turned around looking at Kenny and with one crooked smile from him giggles like a little schoolgirl. Ike scoffs turning his attention to Clyde. Say what you want, the guy may be a tad on the sensitive side but years of football in high school and college made him a potential threat if you were to say get in a scuffle with the guy. His arm, though not obviously endowed with huge muscle, is well toned and quite impressive when he flexes. Also being best friends with Craig, the kid who used to take beatings endlessly simply because he just didn't give a fuck enough to fight back and Token who'd taken classes from Kong Fu to boxing has toughen him up some. Ike spotted, from his side peripheral vision, the bimbo and Kenny hugging each others waist getting a little too close. Ugh they don't even know each other do they? Ike rolls his eyes turning back to Clyde.

"How did you get this job man?"

Stepping aside next to Clyde to let others in the line get by he watch as Clyde brings the red rope to his side letting two females and Mr. Slave in. Clicking the rope back into it's place he shrugs his shoulders.

"I've been looking for a job for a couple months when I got back from Seattle. I always thought I would become like a pro footballer or something when I was younger, after college when all was said and done I don't know I missed my friends I guess."

Clyde slightly blush before continuing getting back on track.

"It was more of a hobby for me is what I guess I'm getting at. I realized I didn't really care what my job occupation is as long as I'm close to friends and family, ya know? So I came back and started applying for strongman types of jobs. I didn't really apply here, out of nowhere Craig just texts me saying he got me a job here, when to show up and that was that."

Ike nods before offering him a genuine smile as he lets another pair, both overdressed guys, in.

"I pretty much came to the same conclusion, except you know I always thought I'd follow my father's footsteps but having Kyle do that took the pressure off me to do the same. That and I've still yet found a job."

Clyde laughs, patting him on the back as Kenny resurfaces without the bimbo in tow.

"Your're like a genius how are you not getting a million offers to take over the world?"

Kenny laughs alongside with Clyde at his question also patting the Canadian's back, bringing his hand to cup the back of Ike's neck. Resting his cheek against Ike's he mumbles,

"He's actually gonna ask the Mafia Boss for a job."

Clyde brings a eyebrow up acquiring, what position, without speaking the words out loud. Behind them came a ahem, following up a cleared throat. Clyde, guiltily, looks behind him to a annoyed French man in a business suit.

"Why iz customers complaining about leur attente?"

Clyde uncomfortably chuckles motioning to his company. Christophe nods his head in acknowledgement at the pair setting his sight on Ike. Ike was wearing simple dark straight leg jeans, a blue tee and one of Kyle's old green jacket slash cardigan. One he'd given him when they started dating. He reaches out grabbing a sleeve and tugs at it.

"Why do you have dis? Take it off maintenant."

People in the line started walking away, having been fed up with all the waiting. The few that refuse to depart started shouting hurry up to the person in front of them. Clyde decides to unrope the entrance and just lets everyone in to avoid further complaints. Ike, dumbfounded stares at the hand tugging at his sleeve as Kenny whistles.

"Ike stripping? I can get into that."

Christophe sighs loudly letting go of his arm glaring at the dirty blond.

"You and your perverts jokes, don't you get tired of being ennuyeux whore?"

"Whoa."

Ike stands in front of Kenny defensively continuing as Christophe gives a somewhat bemused expression.

"Don't talk to him like that, he hasn't done nothing wrong to you. Seriously, don't you get tired of calling everyone a whore? Walking around like your're the only one with morals, you pretentious self righteous douche."

Christophe arches a eyebrow as Kenny wraps his arms around the Canadian's waist whispering something in his ear, _that wasn't necessary dude_. Ike nods his head no, deciding,

"No fuck that, I'm tired of his attitude. He can't pissy at me and Craig for being 'shitty friends' because he refused to see what was right in his face, then go calling you a whore for a comment."

The French man holds a hand up motioning silence, the more the Canadian speaks the more he sounds like his brother espically in his jacket. Reminds him of the time Kyle stood up for Stan when he simply said the guy has a hard on for animals. He had declared with unmistakable passion,_ you could learn something from him you know_. It was too passionate, too heartfelt but like the Canadian suggested he had ignored it. Buried it in the dept of his heart, only crumbling the day he could no longer ignore all the signs having the proof thrown in his face. _I didn't want you to find out like this but I love him __Christophe, we're in love_, he had said. No I'm sorry's and I love you's. He was honest, it was hopelessly honest and that was what made it hurt all the much worse.

"Christophe?"

Ike stare at the dirty man with worry screaming in his dark green eyes. He hadn't meant to hurt the guy's feelings. He was just being honest. Christophe sighs sadly muttering,

"S'il vous plaît take it off."

Debating for about fifty seconds the Jew Canadian nudged Kenny off, tugging his arms out of the articles of clothing throwing it into Christophe's awaiting hands. They stared for awhile, Christophe's knuckles turning white squeezing the fabric and Ike growing more worried by the second. The other two, the ever forgotten, cleared their throats at the same time, grabbing their attention. Clyde holding the red rope to his side mentioned,

"Ike's looking for a job."


	8. Dinner & Dancing

_**oui** _-_ yes  
><strong>pas une putain, <strong>**à couper le souffle** - no whore, breathtaking  
><strong>une pute<strong> - _a whore _  
><em>

* * *

><p>The mirror reflected a not very happy Canadian with pink shiny lip gloss and darkened eyelashes resting his head in his hand. His torso revealed only the top of the dark blue pinup swing vintage dress with a horrifyingly huge yellow bow in the center top of it. Moving a finger over the blush on his cheek, the silver necklace wrapped around his hand and wrist as some kind of bracelet, scrapped against his skin making him wince. To think just a few days ago he was thinking Christophe would never give him a job, certainly not after his little outburst, he sure as hell would have never thought this would be the job title. He was going more for something along the line of Kenny's job, passing out drinks. Speaking of which, this is all that bundle of orange's fault. Ike grunted as he tried to take off the so call bracelet from his hand, one of the 'girls' insisted he would just <em>look so darn cute with that dress<em>. The dress wasn't horrors enough apparently. Struggling with the piece of jewelry he huffed in frustration at the whole thing. Why the the life of him Kenny shouted Josefina quit a couple weeks ago when Christophe said there weren't any positions to fill at the moment is beyond him. And why, when he was informed Josefina was a dancer, a drag queen dancer he didn't tuck his tail in and run off is beneath him. Maybe it was the way the french looked at him, as if to say _he's just a kid, he only does and says what he wants, the smartass_. Maybe it reminded him of a time the spy visited for Thanksgiving.

_"Ma could you pass the rolls?"_

_Kyle was holding out a hand, watching his mother pass the plate to his father. His father handed him the tray which he gratefully picked up two rolls and put them on his plate. Next to him his boyfriend reach over to take one off the Jew's plate smirking when the Jew rolled his eyes. Ike, between his mother and Christophe followed the scene in next to him. It made him uneasy, queasy if you must, knowing just last night Stan was in the bedroom next to his moaning his brother's name. He cleared his throat grabbing the table's attention, well everyone except the french, who was watching Kyle with admiration on his face._

_"Why didn't Stan stay?"_

_His mother's ears perked up at the mention of her sons best friend and she curiously acknowledged Kyle._

_"Why is that _Boubbie, isn't Stanley's parents in California?" _ _

_Kyle straightened up in his seat, picking at his food with the sliver fork in his hand. Before he could answer, with what Ike was sure would have been a lie, Christophe speaks for him._

_"He's uncle is still here, oui?"_

_Ike bitterly laughs at this and stuffs his fork with turkey._

_"Stan's uncle is crazy, Stan may not be the brightest of the bunch but he knows better than to go eat thanksgiving with a drunk redneck hunter."_

_And there it was, that look. Christophe didn't even dignify with a response, no one did. Kyle gave his halfass explanation that he was visiting his sister, who he hates, and there he was keeping his mouth shut like the kid in trouble. _

Yet Christophe was the one who was being childish, who had no idea. Wouldn't allow it, like a stubborn little brat who wouldn't share his new action figure. Ike's no kid, hell maybe he was then who knows? Now though, here in this ridiculous getup, no one can say shit because at the end of the day he needs to get paid. Adults know this, they deal with it.

"A-hem."

Ike turned around in his spin chair and saw the cause of this current gig. Kenny stood in the doorway holding a bottle of water in his hand. He smiles toothily at the youngest and walks towards him. Meeting his destination he clamps a hand a Ike's shoulder and drops the bottle in his lap.

"You're back on in fifteen, you okay sweet thang?"

Ike laughs and grips the bottle in his lap bringing it up to his lips taking five lengthy sips before settling it back on his dresser. He holds out his hand with the accessory and decides,

"Given you are the master of perverts, I assume you know how to get this off."

Kenny chuckles grabbing his wrist using his other hand to carefully untangle the mess the raven made. Untangling a knot, he hums in thought, sticking the tip of his tongue out of the side of his chapped lips. Ike watches in thought himself when they hear a shout in the hallway. Kenny slows down the process as the recognizable voice tries to get answers.

"Answer me you fuckface!" "Well what the hell am I suppose to think?"

Ike rips his arm away from Kenny, accusingly glaring at him. Kenny rubs the back of his neck as Ike hisses,

"You told him?"

Before Kenny could deny or affirm in the doorway came storming a redhead with three guys on his heels, Stan, Clyde and the bodyguard, Tommy. Ike thought Kyle was coming after him but no, the Jew stopped at Kenny and jabbed him in the chest with his index finger.

"I told you to watch after him, not turn him into a stripper!"

Kenny grabs Kyle's finger and backs up as Tommy came in between them, trying to hold off the redhead. Clyde comes by Kenny, just in case he needs protection. Kyle turns his head to Ike and screams,

"And you! Of all the things you could of done with your life, you chose this?"

Ike rolls he eyes, pulling the diamond clip ons, off his ears. Need his big brother to take him seriously after all.

"One I'm not stripping, I'm simply dancing and in a humorous manner too mind you. Two even if I were stripping it's my life. Three what are you even doing here?"

Kyle looks at Stan standing nervously in the doorway. Stan gives him a look, a pleading look before Kyle loosens his struggle in Tommy's grip. Tommy lets go but stays very close. Stan walks over, putting a hand on Kyle's back rubbing circles lovingly as Kyle dejectedly mutters,

"Thought I could change your mind, but I get it. Your life, whatever."

Then for some reason it hits him, Ike looks around the room realizing that shit Kyle is here. Here with Stan.

"Where's Christophe?"

Stan's arm stops moving as Kyle looks around himself.

"Huh, I didn't see him out there."

Stan takes his hand off Kyle's back and scowls him. Kyle gave him a warning glare but Stan ignored it.

"Dude don't lie to him you were yelling at him and everything."

He turns his attention to Ike and sighs.

"He left when he saw me, he told Kyle to tell y-"

Kyle held his hand over his boyfriends mouth but Stan bit at his palm making him yelp.

"He's sorry he isn't able to see the rest of the show and that you looked...what was the word Kyle?"

Kyle glares at his boyfriend turning back to his younger brother taking notice the look in his eyes. Ike looked as if his answer is really really important, he doesn't remember a time his brother was ever this interested in someone. Kyle isn't even sure if his brother is aware of how lovestruck he looks when the name comes up. Even when Klye was dating him Ike would get this glint in his eyes, but he didn't seem to realize it. He truly does not get it, Ike could do better. You'd think he'd learn this by now after Filmore but no. _He looks like pas une putain, à couper le souffle__._ Surely a man who keeps pointedly berating his ex is not a good man. He may be nice to Ike now but will happen if things go wrong? He shrugs his shoulder, fuck it if he's gonna help his brother throw his life away.

"Words Stan not word. I think is was une pute."

Groans from Stan, Kenny and Clyde could be heard by everyone but the fuming Ike.


	9. In Hair

Ike isn't sure why he's so pissed. Really why should he care what the dirty French thinks of him? The guy is a walking zombie, tired eyes with shadowed bags and a permanent scowl on his face fitting his pale skin perfectly. He used to be tan though it'd be hard to tell with the smudges of dirt decorating him but at least in those days he made some sort of effort in his appearance. Constantly scrubbing at his face as Kyle turns his back to speak to someone else. However when he didn't Kyle would nag him so maybe that was it. But still he'd like to think that calling Filmore over two nights later after the fiascco and giving him a blowjob has nothing to do with trying to keep his mind of Christophe. Yet if that's the cause it isn't working very well, pulling back from the organ to finish via hands he still can't get the words _une pute une pute une pute_ out of his head. Even as Filmore, quite unattractively grunts and snorts like the fucking pig he is when he cums without warning him. Ejaculation fly in his hair with bits hitting his nose, Ike can't help but distort his face in disgust because seriously who does that? Then he wonders if Kyle ever experienced self loathing with Crhistophe and dosen't blame him for cheating. As his kind of boyfriend zips his jeans up he then reminds himself he has no idea if the French was like this, like him and maybe he shouldn't fucking be thinking about it because it's getting borderline creepy. After the pre school teacher Ike tries not to be creepy to avoid his mother sending him to therapy or something. Another reason he will never tell her about his job, if he decides not to quit that is. Fingers snapping in his face the Canadian looks up to see a annoyily cheeky Filmore smirking at him.

"Thinking about going further babe?"

Ike rolls his eyes, nods his head no as he heaves himself off the carpet floor because god forbid anyone helps him. Filmore shrugs reaching for his belt on the couch arm, placing them in his jeans loops one by one in a concentrating manner, both of them know it isn't the belt he is focus on however.

"Why not?"

The younger male sighs loudly, wiping his face with the sleeves of his faded blue sweatshirt, mostly to save time if anything. He never really has a straight answer for this, no matter how many times it comes up he always says something like _I'm not ready, I want it to mean something, There's something in the oven_. He's sure that he knows that is total bullshit, Ike isn't a virgin or anything he just doesn't want to fuck or be fucked by Filmore. Almost as much he doesn't want to be bothered to really end whatever they have going on. He knows it's not normal not to want to embrace your lover or whatever, but in South Park no one is normal so he has no reason to dwell on it.

"Kenny should be home anytime now."

Filmore snorts like that is the most unfuckingbelievable thing he has ever heard. He opens his mouth to instigate a fight but to prove Ike's point, comes a loud slam of a door and a gleeful singsong,

"Honey I'm home and I've brought company."

Ike, spewing bullshit, is needless to say grateful for the dirty blond till his turns around to see the company being dragged by his wrist in the living area. Of course it's the one person he is trying to keep his mind of that is trying to get out of the pervert's grip rather pathetically for a spy of his nature. He debates telling Kenny to let go of his helpless victim or punching the helpless victim in the face for the conflict of emotions. Which he would have chosen is unknown as Kenny decides to address him in his moment of comparing outcomes. The blond smiles knowingly jerking his head to the Canadian asking,

"Woah dude what's that in your hair?"

The raven isn't one for blushing, but if ever comes a time for it now would be it. He attempts to play it cool patting his head, shrugging his shoulders like he has no idea dead babies is crawling in his freshly showered hair. He almost expects the French to throw out his usual whores comments but he seems fixated on everything but him, and he's not sure yet what bothers him more. Being belittled or ignored. Most would probably say belittled but as Filmore comes behind him to hug his waist and lay his chin on his right shoulder and whispers, _let's go to your room babe_ he thinks he likes Christophe actions a bit more. It seems his not so much boyfriend has caught on to that too because then he whispers, _or you can stay here and continue to eyefuck the French you ungrateful twat_. At least he thought he had whisper it but he sees Kenny glaring at the figure behind him and the blond isn't big on hateful facial expressions. Even Christophe has turn his attention towards their general direction, mostly at Filmore. And he sure as hell is glad he's looking at the other one because he seems pretty piss himself, and Ike is still kinda hurt from the other night would not have hesitated to take up a fight with him. Kenny dangerously inquires,

"What did you call him?"

Then before his boyfriend can say anything to defend himself he realizes just how hurt he is as he hears himself accusingly demand,

"Now you care? You have no problem with your friend over there calling me a whore and then bringing him here. In our apartment with no regards to how I would fucking feel?"

Everyone looks taken a back as the Canadian's hands shake from the overwhelming number of emotions cruising through his veins, the hurt, confusion and most of all anger. So much fucking anger and it doesn't help when Filmore raises from his shoulder to hold his stomach and laugh out this sickeningly hearty laugh that makes Ike feel like crying. Like it's there again, where he's being dismiss like some fucking kid and it hurts. It fucking hurts because no matter how smart he is, how responsible he is people like him, like Filmore are going to say shit to remind him that no one takes him seriously for some absurd reason. Is it his cowlick or his babyface, whatever it is his resolve breaks when he words his sorta boyfriend words,

"Stop being such a faggot, oh god,"

Filmore wipes tears of bitter laughter from his eyes,

"You a whore? Maybe when you finally get on your back kid, till then you have nothing to fucking worry about babe."

_Kid Kid Kid_, never mind that he is a adult and that Filmore is only a couple years older, a fucking kid he'll always be to the condescending distant relative of a fearful celebrity. He tries not to, but the water threatens to drop from his eyelids regardless and he barely catches the sight of a brunette's fist colliding in the offenders face. But he hears the crackling sounds loud and clear following the blond's pleas and his boyfriends strings of cruses following even more crackling sounds. And all he can think is, as his visions blurs and the home phone rings, did I get it that shit out of my hair?


	10. Mal Dont's

_**quelque chose** - something  
><strong>dernièrement<strong> - lately  
><strong>Mal<strong> - Wrong  
><em>

* * *

><p>Kenny held a cigarette between his finger tips flickering bits of ash on the hospital floor. Sounds of machines, echoing steps, stats and cries of anguish could be heard from his guest chair next to the hospital bed occupying his current least liked person. Next to him in another hospital bed was his favorite Canadian person, his little brother these days. The chair by his bed occupied a highly annoyed Jewish brother. He huffed loudly as Kenny gave him a incredulous look.<p>

"Don't look at me like that dude, I'm fucking pissed at you."

Kenny rolls his eyes taking a drag of his cancer stick before dropping it on the clean white floor crushing it under his combat boot. He rests his head in one of his hands mumbling,

"And what did I do now dearest?"

Kyle hastily stands up from his seat to point a finger in the blond's direction angrily. Kenny holding his arms up in mock surrender.

"My little brother is in the hospital for dehydration! He's living with you, you couldn't say 'Hey dude have a glass have water' every once in awhile?"

Kenny scuffed making to maintain his innocence but the redhead wasn't having any of that.

"And when you called me you could have told me fucking Christophe would be here."

Kenny shrugged his shoulders not really knowing what to say at that. It's true, having the French here when Kyle came running in here berating the doctor and nurse was weird. He had assumed the couple had got in some fight which was why he was upset about them being in the same room. Then Kenny informed him of the real case. Ike fainted and Christophe beat Filmore unconscious. Watching Kyle give Chrsitophe that unsure criminal look was disheartening, certainly when the spy withdraw and slowly dragged himself out the room like he'd seen his dead father. He claimed he was going to the cafeteria but it's been twenty minutes at the least. Kyle sat back in his chair pulling out his phone to text someone, probably Stan or his mother. He just smiled so more likely his fiance. Kenny heard someone groan next to him and looked down to see Filmore slowly opening his eyes. Well at least as far as he can all puffed in up black and blue like that. He takes in the blond next to him and groans louder. With a scratchy voice he inquires,

"What's this?"

Kenny laughs at the jackasses stupidity and confusion. Again before he could speak someone beat him to it, or course the redhead.

"Have you been putting down my baby brother dickface?"

Kyle with his phone back in his front pocket stands next to the other side of the bed, crossed arms and all. Filmore rolls his face in his pillow, not realizing how messed up of shape it was in, and cries out in pain. Turning back to face the Jew he just stares sputtering for a respond. It's common knowledge not to lie to him, he will find out, but it's also well known not to piss him off. The redhead may be only 5'6 as oppose to the usual 6 feet friends he has grown up with, but the guy makes up for it with temper, intelligence, learned boxing and martial arts. Luckily for Filmore someone else, in the opposite hospital bed, spoke up.

"I can take care of myself Kyle."

The Jew turns around walking the short distance to his bed quickly. Laying a hand on one of his shoulder he arches up a eyebrow with mock questioning.

"Really, were you saying this when your knight in shinning armor decked your boyfriend?"

Kenny smiled as Ike's face scrunches up lifting his arm to look at the IV attached to his vein. Setting it back at his side with annoyance, he holds up a hand unleashing a index finger.

"One, not my boyfriend. Two, Christophe isn't anyone's knight in shinning armor."

Filmore mumbles,

"Because he's a dirty gross fuckface who needs to go back where he came from."

Ike sits up, turning his head in his not so boyfriend's direction, glaring at him.

"Shouldn't talk about yourself like that _babe_."

Then something that no one thought possible anymore happened. A laugh filled the room, but no ordinary laugh, no everyday laugh that no one can appreciate. This one was from the French in the doorway holding a carton containing three cups. He was leaning smiling and laughing a laugh so deep and low, he could see he stomach heave as he wipes his eye with his free hand getting rid of his imaginary tear. Behind him, a stoic raven seemingly uninterested if you didn't look hard enough at the slight upward turn of his lips. Next to him, a blond melvin rubbing his knuckles together. Kenny took a double take at the blond, wondering why Butters looked like he was suppose to be next to Craig. His hair was slightly disheveled, though on second thought so was Craig's. Shit, Kenny couldn't help but smirk, he still had no idea what they are doing here, but it's being obvious what they were doing. He Feels he should be surprised as the three walks in and he notices Craig kind of leaning towards the blond, while Butters kind of not. Despite popular belief among the townspeople, Butters may be a sweetheart but not in matters of romance and sex. In a way he's like Kenny, he enjoys others presence as long as they see it at just that. And anyone who sleeps with Craig can tell off the back he definitely isn't as emotionless as he likes to come off. He lingers and clings, he's looking for something serious being a serious fellow himself. Why he thought he'd find that in the only other bisexual slut in this hick town, besides Kenny, is beyond the dirty blond. Christophe hands Ike a plastic coffee cup, purposely ignoring Kyle's presence. Walking towards Kenny he does the same to Filmore not as much as glancing at him when he hands Kenny one of the free hot coffees. The pervert smiles thankfully before taking a big gulp, burning his throat make not really caring. Walking back towards Ike, the French pulls something out of his back pocket. He throws a frosted covered honey bun on top of the raven, mumbling,

"You needs to eat quelque chose."

Kyle scoffs as Ike quickly opens the thin bag without hesitation. He would make a comment about if he had did that, the stubborn brat would have starved just to be defiant, but he doesn't set out to risk his brother's health so he bites his tongue. Kenny eats Ike moan at the sugar infested snack knowing in the back of his mind the French and Jew were having a stare off. He spots Filmore trying to sleep, probably to not draw attention to himself, as Kenny turns his attention back to the raven and blond trading hushed words between each other. Craig looks visibly upset, as visible as it can possibly be for him, while Butters looks as if he's trying not to look done with. Kenny knows the feeling. Addressing Craig,

"Whatca doing here dude?"

The raven turns his attention to the other blond, motioning his head to Christophe flicking him off.

"He called me. Needed to talk."

Kenny nodded his head knowingly replacing his attention to Butter.

"And you sexy?"

Craig slit his eyes closer but not closed well Butters smiles sheepishly, giggling. Craig puts a hand on his nearest shoulder, making it seemed buddy like if you weren't to notice his finger itching for the farthest shoulder. Kenny noted Butters slight shift, but not enough for Craig to notice apparently, and it accrued to the dirty blond that they may be alike in this sense but Butters has no idea how to deal with the aftermath with the likes of Craig.

"He was smoking with me, didn't want to leave him at my place to finish off my weed."

Kenny rolls his eyes at the believable but bogus lie, another difference between him and the blond, he would have called Craig out. But no Butters just smiles big like that's his fucking ticket that it was nothing serious, he isn't in trouble and he's no longer this terrible person. Kenny concludes Butters really is the towns sweetheart no matter how much he gets around. He hears Ike hum loudly declaring,

"I think that was a piece of cloud from heaven."

Then that weird thing happened again, where the spy laughs. Only this time it's quieter and it follows with a redhead's agitated voice.

"Well that's great, how about I get the doctor so when can see if your're done here?"

Ike wasn't able to reply before he was hit with another question by the French.

"Were you avioding me dernièrement?"

Kenny knew he should stop the upcoming conversation with the redhead sitting right there. But even with the French back to him, he just knows he has this forced look of anything but confusion and hurt. He's not sure himself if Christope is attracted to Ike or simply cares for him, but something is most surely there. Kyle obviously knows it too because it seems to piss him off. Ike goes from contentment to that look he's been hearing the past few days. Unsure morphed with being pissed off and disappointed.

"Why does it matter? I look like a whore according to you. And we all know how much you hate those."

Kyle squirms in his chair a bit, Butters, Craig, and Kenny all look at the French awaiting.

"Mal, you don't and I don't."

The redhead seems surprised he wasn't found out as he relaxes in his seat again. Kenny however knows better, after all Christophe is a fucking spy, he would have been able to figure where Ike has gotten that idea. The dirty blond gets this feeling of excitement in the pit of his stomach with a thought. He isn't defending himself with facts or ratting out Kyle, if he were dating the redhead still it'd because he doesn't want to get him in any conflicts, wants to protect him. Something tells Kenny Christophe is thinking more of Ike right now than anyone else, wants to protect _him_.


End file.
